Daemon’s Mark by Caitlin Kittredge (web ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“My mom and dad both tell me I talk too much,” Masha said tightly, and clammed up.

I heard the elevator bell sound far behind us, and footsteps. Blood drifted to my nose, along with metal sweat and copper fear. At least now, I had the upper hand even if Mikel had the gun. “In here,” I said, gesturing her through a door marked with bright red lettering.

“I dunno,” Masha said. “I can’t read Kazakh but in Russian it says danger—do not enter and some other crap I can’t make out ’cause it’s all faded. That doesn’t look promising.”

“Trust me,” I said. “Come on.”

The door led us into a long room, empty of anything at all. I tried the switch and only darkness responded.

“Perfect,” I said. “Stay behind the door, and stay quiet.”

Mikel was calling something out in Ukrainian as he paced down the hallways toward us, singsong and highpitched.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Masha whispered in translation. Mikel’s footsteps stopped outside the door, and everything was quiet for a moment except for my heartbeat and Masha’s.

And a third, far away in the shadows, thumping strong. A heartbeat that belonged to something I hadn’t seen or scented.

Oh, Hex me.

“Masha,” I hissed. She goggled at me. “Stay calm,” I said. “But you need to know there’s someone else in here.”

“What?” she squeaked.

“I hear you, bitch,” Mikel caroled from outside the door. “You think I wouldn’t find you? I’ll find you and I’ll…” He shoved the door open and the dim light from the hall barred across the scarred cement floor, laced with creeping mold.

It captured the body in ragged green hiking shorts and a safari vest, crouched in the corner, and it highlighted the needlelike, inch-long fangs rimming the man’s mouth when he opened it and let out a snarl that could curdle milk.

Mikel cursed, jumping backward, but it was too late. In a streak, the thing leaped, out the door and onto Mikel’s chest, going for the blood on his face from my blow.

There was a crunch. A scream. A sound of tearing ligament and bone.

“Masha,” I said. “Move. Now.”

“But I don’t want to go near that thing!” she wailed.

I grabbed her by the arm and shook her. “Listen! Now is not the time to panic. Stay by me and do what I say and stop crying!”

I was being a real bitch, but we didn’t have time to hang around playing with whatever that thing was. I’d seen those fangs before, long as shark’s teeth and reaching for my throat. Anton and his strange strength, his eerie movements, his scentless silence as he came upon me, terrified and hiding like prey.

Anton and the thing in the hallway mauling Mikel were the same, except that this one seemed a lot hungrier and a lot more pissed.

“Okay,” I said to Masha. “We’re going to step out and we’re going to run for the elevator. Got it?”

She nodded numbly. “It’s too busy feeding on Mikel to worry about us,” I reassured her, and prayed to the bright lady it was true. “Just run, and don’t look back.”

“O-okay,” she stuttered.

“Go!” I shouted, and shoved her through the door. Masha skidded in the blood, righted herself and took off running. I followed her, careful not to trip on Mikel’s twitching legs, and thought that I’d managed to evade this latest nightmare when crushing weight landed on my back.

My legs buckled and I went down under the were’s weight. He snarled, raking claws through my hair, trying to expose my neck. I drove my elbow backward into his face and rolled out from under him when he reared in pain.

“Luna?” Masha had stopped and was peering around the corner.

“Masha, go!” I screamed. “Your father is in the village! Run!”

The were caught me again and I turned around and hit him in the face, hard. That was my job now, my one goal in life. Keep myself between the monster and Masha.

He shook off the blow and returned it, making my jaws snap together and my head ring. He was impossibly strong for his short, squat frame and his eyes were red with burst blood vessels, where they weren’t black from pupils dilated in territorial rage.

This was his kingdom, and I was a trespasser. The only way I was getting out alive was to beat him, to be the stronger, dominant were.

Easy, right? He had claws that were obsidian black and sharper than razors. They caught the front of my gown, went through to flesh, scraped red on my sternum.

My feet slicked on Mikel’s blood, and I fell, hitting the back of my head hard on the cement. The monster crouched above me, and I knew a death strike when I saw one. I wasn’t strong enough as a plain human to put a dent in him, and the decision came easily to me, with none of the overwhelming sense of failure that had accompanied my last partial phase, in Grigorii’s brothel.

My fangs grew, my claws sprouted and my spine rippled, giving me the crouch of a predator. I rolled over, coming up in a lunge, feeling my thickened leg muscles launch me to meet the other were in midair. The color bled out of my vision and I snapped at the were’s throat, tasting blood.

He pulled me off him like I was a small, annoying toy dog, and threw me. I caught air, and slammed into the wall with a thud that cracked my ribs on the impact side.

I cried out and lost the phase, felt the were slipping away to lick its wounds.

Cracked ribs aren’t serious, but they hurt like you’re on fire. I curled into the fetal position, struggling to draw breath, to not scream, hot, silent tears soaking my face as the pain blackened my vision.

CHAPTER 23

The thought that I might be dying came through with curious clarity. It didn’t bother me too much. Between getting my bell rung by the wall and the blood